


and time will go on (without us)

by heartsighed



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsighed/pseuds/heartsighed
Summary: Sanghyuk chases Wonsik through the years, but never quite catches up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from "circle" by machine heart

**[Day 0] 0 Years, June**

_I did it, Hyukkie._  The words pound in Sanghyuk’s brain, pulsing through his temples with the rush of blood as he thunders up the stairs.

“Maybe today," he repeats to himself over and over, squeezing the key in his pocket. He is still chanting under his breath when he slows down in front of Wonsik's door. His heart drops in his chest even as he opens the door to the emptiness. He isn't foolish enough to expect, but he might have hoped—

Empty.

"Stupid," Sanghyuk spits at the giant contraption sitting in the center of the living room. He sinks down onto his knees next to the control panel, filled with messily labeled buttons. The glass case in the center holds a single ugly plastic digital watch with two sets of numbers, black and red. "Stupid Wonsik."

Four days have passed since Wonsik disappeared from his own living room.

It had been anticlimactic, honestly. No flash of light, no bang, not even a hint of smoke. One second, Wonsik had been fiddling with the controls, his mouth pursed with focus, and the next he had winked out of existence. The machine had stopped its soft whirring a mere two minutes later, leaving Sanghyuk alone in the silence.

And now, four days later, Wonsik is still nowhere to be found. Every day, Sanghyuk runs into Wonsik’s apartment, only to be greeted by disappointment and the taunting presence of the time machine, and every day, Sanghyuk sits there and lets the black watch mock him in the absence of its equally ugly twin.

He makes his decision in the blink of an eye, but really it takes four days of hesitation. The universe is not obliged to wait for him.

He tries not to think of how the watch fits his wrist perfectly (Wonsik had always told him it was a spare).

 

**[Day 3762] -10 Years, August**

Sanghyuk is warm. Too warm.

He can’t breathe.

With a gasp, he sits up in the bathtub, inhaling deep, coughing breaths and shaking water from his hair.

“This is new,” he mutters, surveying his surroundings, a narrow bathroom laid with neat red tiles. A slew of skincare products line the sink next to a rack of matching towels embroidered with small white seashells.

With a groan, he grips the ceramic edges of the tub and hauls himself to his feet. The water streams in heavy rivulets down his body and drags on his pant legs.

He shucks off the down parka in quick motions and spends a little longer peeling off the snow pants and the fleece-lined leggings underneath. Squatting in the center of the cream bathmat, clad only in a damp cotton shirt and his boxers, Sanghyuk feels a tad ridiculous clutching his wet winter gear and rifling through the magazines next to the toilet.

Before he can get a glance at the year on the cover of the newest spring issue at the top of the stack, the door swings open. A boy who looks to be about fourteen takes the first step into the bathroom before he catches sight of the giant man crouching on the floor.

Sanghyuk and the boy both freeze.

“Oh,” Sanghyuk says weakly. “This is new.”

Wonsik just stares down at him with dinner plate eyes.

 

**[Day 576] +2 Years, December**

Sanghyuk always finds it a bit of a hassle when he lands in bushes. Sure, it’s much better than landing somewhere chock-full of people (or worse, cars), but he has come close to blinding himself with a twig one too many times for comfort.

Once, he fell straight into a sandpit in a park in Canada the year before Wonsik’s parents were married. He knows because he used to spend hot summer days curled up on the hardwood floor of Wonsik’s house, flipping through his family’s photo albums and tracing the dates penned in the margins with his fingertips. After a bit of screaming from the two elementary schoolers sitting in the corner and a few bullshit excuses, he had waddled away with only a few pinches of sand up his ass.

He checks the digital numbers on his watch, glowing faintly in the dark. The red number glares at him mockingly, as if to say,  _It's been over a year, and you've made no progress_.

He shoves his hand in his pocket and ambles out of the trees, finding himself in a familiar park that sends queasy bolts of recognition through his stomach. After a long moment of hesitation, he sits down on the worn wooden bench on the edge of the trees to wait for the machine to pull him back through time and space to deposit him somewhere safer.

Not that he has a choice where he lands; Wonsik never got around to programming that part before he disappeared. If he had any say in the matter, Sanghyuk definitely would not have chosen this day in the future, so close to the where and the when he belongs. The urge to run up to the apartment and check if his key still fits or if the windows are lit is overwhelming, but the fear of disappointment is greater.

After another two hours, a small tug in his gut is the only warning before a slow, blinding white fills his eyes and he can't feel the bench under him anymore.

 

**[Day 843] -20 Years, April**

Sanghyuk sees Wonsik once, during the spring showers the year Sanghyuk was born. He is standing in the middle of a crosswalk, looking distinctly out of place in ripped jeans, ratty Converse, and a worn army jacket.

When Sanghyuk catches his elbow, his eyes fill with tears.

“Always the crybaby,” Sanghyuk says fondly, even as his eyes trace unfamiliar lines and crinkles at the corners of Wonsik’s eyes and mouth.

“You don’t belong here,” Wonsik says later. They are slumped side by side on a park bench, arms barely brushing under Wonsik’s umbrella.

“You don’t either,” Sanghyuk points out, irked.

“I don’t,” Wonsik agrees. “I’m waiting for something.”

“What?”

“I can’t say.” Wonsik scuffs his shoe against the leg of the bench.

“Are you lost?” Sanghyuk shifts to scan his face.

“No.”

“What’s your time?” Sanghyuk gulps, but even as he grabs at Wonsik’s wrist, he knows this is not his Wonsik. He is too old and worn and jaded and tired.

Sanghyuk wants to cry when he sees the numbers. There are more than 8 years he needs to catch up to.

“Go back,” Wonsik tells him, his eyes drooping with age. “Don’t waste your time chasing me.”

“No,” Sanghyuk bites back bitterly. “I don’t want to.” He sounds like a child. Even now, when they are hurtling through dimensions, stranded outside of time, he is still the mulish, unreasonably stubborn baby of the two. He wants to scream in frustration.

The corners of Wonsik’s mouth curl up, as if he knows. Of course he knows. He’s always been able to read Sanghyuk like a book.

“I won’t wait for you,” Wonsik warns.

“When have you ever?” Sanghyuk scoffs, and it is not without bite. Wonsik winces.

“I don’t know how long it’ll take me to find what I’m looking for.”

“That makes two of us.” Sanghyuk crosses his arms and sets his upper lip.

“What will you do if I never find it?” Wonsik asks, worry coloring his voice. “Will you be stranded out of time forever with me? Like this, we will always run on parallel paths.”

Sanghyuk is silent.

“Go back,” Wonsik repeats, softer, not because he is tender, but because he is fading. Already, Sanghyuk’s time is up.

Wonsik is gone, umbrella clattering to the ground, before Sanghyuk can make up his mind.

 

**[Day 844] +34 Years, July**

There’s a time limit now.

Sanghyuk spends the night stargazing on a roof in the middle of an ocean of lights.

He isn't sure if he is alone in the world, or if there is another Han Sanghyuk somewhere out there. If it is the  _right_  Han Sanghyuk.

He is twenty-one years old.

He wiggles his toes in his shoes to feel the rough scratch of canvas against calluses. It anchors him in the surreal haze of the rosy dawn.

When the sun peeks over the edge of the city, Han Sanghyuk does not exist, not on the roof and not anywhere else in the world.

His last thought before he disappears is,  _Eight years._

 

**[Day 1024] +6 Years**

Neutral time.

The next eight years are neutral time. They are Sanghyuk's reassurance and his insecurity. He will never find  _his_  Wonsik until the eight years are over and they are flung into the infinite uncertainty of time.

For the next eight years, he will chase after Wonsik and never find him.

For the next eight years, he will keep running until he reaches that convergence point.

That’s what he tells the next Wonsik he meets. Sanghyuk feels an immense rush of satisfaction that Wonsik’s counter has only aged two days compared to his six months.

Wonsik cries.

“I’ll catch up to you,” Sanghyuk repeats doggedly. Wonsik just cries harder. "After eight years, I'll find you."

“I don’t want you to catch up to me,” Wonsik says, his voice watery. “I want you to go back to where you belong. I want you to forget about me, leave me behind and live normally.” He says it without conviction, like he knows Sanghyuk will never listen to him, and he's right.

Even eight years older, Wonsik is a messy crier. He wipes snot haphazardly with the back of his hand and lets the tears drip down his chin.

“It won’t be normal unless you’re there.”

 

**[Day 3762] -10 Years, August**

Wonsik inhales, pupils shaking.

Fortunately, Sanghyuk knows him well enough to clamp a hand over his mouth before any sound comes out.

“Please don’t, Won—kid,” he amends. If it was kid-Sanghyuk here, he would probably have felt teeth on his palm in less than a second. Seeing as it is Wonsik, though, Sanghyuk just gets a bit of snot. He sighs. “I’m not going to hurt you. Can you do me a favor and not scream, though?”

After a moment, Wonsik nods. He sniffles as Sanghyuk releases him.

 _He’s so small_ , Sanghyuk thinks fondly as Wonsik wipes at his eyes. “Sorry I scared you.”

Wonsik stares up at him. After a moment: “Hyukkie?”

Shit.

"Uh," Sanghyuk starts weakly.

Wonsik appraises him for a moment. Then, "You're old."

"I'm not Hyuk."

"You look just like him, though," Wonsik points out. "And Hyukkie doesn't have any uncles or older brothers."

Sanghyuk winces.

"Why are you so old?" Wonsik wrinkles his nose, and Sanghyuk wants to laugh at the irony.

"There's a first time for everything," he mutters to himself. Then, to Wonsik, he amends, "I'm not  _your_  Hyuk."

"You're not?" Wonsik stares back now, unafraid. He is a scientist to the bone, analytical and logical. "Are you from the future?"

Sanghyuk doesn't reply, but Wonsik knows.

"I built it," he murmurs, elation lighting up his face. "I did it! I did it, Hyukkie!"

Sanghyuk sucks in a pained breath at the words. This is too much.

"Hyukkie?"

"I need to go." Sanghyuk staggers to his feet.

"Hyukkie, you can stay," Wonsik starts, but Sanghyuk is stumbling down the stairs already.

"I need to go," Sanghyuk repeats under his breath until he reaches the front door. Luckily, Wonsik's parents and sister seem to be out of the house. Sanghyuk doesn't think he can handle running into them right now.

Wonsik catches his arm at the front door for one last question. "I built the time machine, didn't I?"

It hurts to breathe.

"It's not my place to say," Sanghyuk finally replies. "Don't tell anyone I was here."

He cries later, when he reaches the park at the end of the block, wet sobs racking his frame.

_It's my fault._

 

**[Day 4602] -2,000 Years, May**

"Don't move," is the first thing Sanghyuk hears when he lands in the rainforest. They’re too far back, and one wrong step could kill a species. Or kill one of them. “Wait for the machine to pull you back.”

“You saw me.”

Wonsik nods.

“You knew I would come.”

Another nod.

“It’s my fault.”

“It’s not. I wanted this, Sanghyuk.”

“You wanted to leave me behind?” Sanghyuk chokes as the tears thicken his voice. For once, he’s crying first. “You wanted me to chase you across thousands of years with the constant fear that I would never see you again?”

Wonsik sighs. They both know the jabs only hide bruises in his heart.

Sanghyuk tries again, “You got lost?”

“An error in the calculations,” Wonsik admits. “Stupid thing to waste twelve years on, isn’t it?”

Sanghyuk thinks of nights spent under stars brighter than he will ever see in his natural timeline, of dusty roads and shiny drones and silver skyscrapers that spiral into the sky further than the eye can see, of the history of mankind, a story of slow toil and small labors that build into a massive wave that threatens to swallow him whole. He thinks of Wonsik’s smile in the privacy of his apartment, surrounded by familiar objects and old smells and just enough space on the edge of Wonsik’s pillow for Sanghyuk to comfortably rest his head.

“No.”

Wonsik’s eyes soften and he stretches out a hand. There’s just enough space between them for Sanghyuk to fit their fingers together, solid and warm.

The question is on the tip of Sanghyuk’s tongue, and he is almost too scared to ask, but he plunges ahead because he knows the universe is not obliged to wait for him.

“What’s your time?”

The answer sounds like the rattle of keys in the lock, the shuffle and thump of shoes tossed carelessly in the entryway, the tuneless hum in Wonsik’s deep voice floating in from the door. Even in the empty gap, countless years and miles from the place where they belong, it sounds like coming home.

 

**[Day ?] 0 Years, All of Time**

Somewhere out there, it was, is, and will be inevitable (even if the Sanghyuk of now—whenever now is—does not know it).

Like puzzle pieces—like magnets spread just too far to feel the faint mutual force they exert on each other—they fit together eventually and find the right space and the right time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> did that even make sense oh god. this pair doesn't get enough love and they definitely deserve something better than the crap story i just put them through.


End file.
